Sweet Cantarella
by OMariquitaO
Summary: The past catches up with you. It always does. Even when you are imprisoned in Azkaban. Even when you are Lucius Malfoy.[Translation]
1. Prologue

**Cantarella**

The past catches up with you. It always will. Even when you are imprisoned in Azkaban. Even when you are Lucius Malfoy.

_A few years ago I wrote this story in German and now started to translate it. Please let me know what you think. The next chapter will follow soon._

Oooo00oooo

Daily Prophet, 21.03.1975

**Death Eater Create Bloodbath – Is Italy the next country to suffer at the hands of evil?**

By Walden Skeeter

_Last night we received a disturbing and shocking message by our foreign correspondent, Pablo Piccinini._

_In the early morning hours of March 20, Positano, a quaint and secluded village situated near the Gulf of Salerno, became the scene of a terrible tragedy._

_According to the reports of several distraught witnesses, who have no idea why and how they survived, the village was attacked by a group of six Death Eaters. _

_After destroying nearly all buildings the followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named assaulted Positanos innocent residents. Muggleborns as well as the magician villagers were initially tortured before being killed mercilessly. _

_Whether this horrible massacre served a particular purpose or was merely committed out of sheer cruelty remains as unknown the attacker's identities._

_The Italian Minister of Magic has just enlarged the number of aurors patrolling the country's borders and even is considering cooperating with our institutions._

„_The dangerous threat of the one who calls himself ‚Lord' is growing and starting to cast its shadow over other countries", the Minister told Piccinini in an exclusive interview shortly after the Minister's return from the side of destruction. „I will do everything in my power to protect my country against this foreign threat. And considering the recent tragedy, an international cooperation among the Ministries of Magic seems to be an important step in the right direction."_

_The Minister has – without doubt – high hopes for his political plans. But if they will prevent further attacks is questionable. One thing we know for sure: For the victims of Positano all diplomatic exploits come much too late and we have to ask ourselves the question: Who is going to be next?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

After leaving the quiet depths of unconsciousness, the first thing he did was to feel. He felt the pounding in his head, the uncomfortable dizziness behind his eyes, and the numbness of his body, which still seemed to be sleeping while his mind slowly began to have clear thoughts again.

Over the past months, Lucius got into the habit of enjoying those precious seconds between sleeping and awakening. He clung to them desperately because they were the only time of day during which he felt nothing except for a comfortable drowsiness...no pain, no sorrows, no worries, no regrets.

After those delightful seconds had faded, the only thing that would remain was an ever-present exhaustion, by which first his body and eventually his mind had been taken over.

No sleep was able to fend off this kind of exhaustion; at least no sleep in prison. But after two years in Azkaban, freedom was a prospect Lucius regarded as highly unrealistic.

The more he regained consciousness the he more felt. Exhaustion was joined by another unpleasant feeling, which resembled pain. Or rather, the distant memory of pain he suffered a few hours ago, caused in a tiny holding cell by self-righteous people who claimed to fight for the light side - the good side - of magic. As far as Lucius was concerned, these members of the ‚good side' were as skilled as any Death Eater he had encountered in inflicting pain on unarmed prisoners. Day after day they tried to bring Lucius to turn against his people, to betray everything he had been fighting and making tremendous sacrifices for over the last decades.

Day after day they tried again.

Day after day his mind sought refugee in merciful blackness.

Day after day they failed.

Day after day he won. In a crazy, twisted kind of way.

Soon enough after awakening and regaining the ability to feel his own body, the sounds of Azkaban, mainly the screams, would force their way into his mind. And when he finally opened his eyes, he was greeted by the never-changing darkness that had been surrounding him for the last two years.

After a while, with just blackness and tormented screams as companions, Lucius had started to listen to his own feelings, examining them more thoroughly than he had ever done before in his life. And sometimes he regretted that he started in doing so now, after reaching a point in his life where the insights he gained about himself would make no difference anymore.

Most of the time his feelings were very similar to each other but once in a while one emotion would be slightly more prominent than the others, offering his mind a little change and some diversion to focus on.

Little changes were better than no changes at all. Insanity was caused by standstill. And Lucius had been on its verge more than once.

His lips curled into a bitter smile. Today was a good day. Instead of sadness and regret he felt frustration, fury, and desperation. These were no good feelings by normal standards, but in Azkaban you only felt alive when hot fury or raging desperation was burning inside you.

He had gotten used to the constant exhaustion, but not to all the frustration and bitterness haunting him. Frustration about his situation, bitterness and fury about his helplessness and the cruel despair, which so far he had managed to suppress because otherwise it would have poisoned his thoughts and bit by bit his whole mind, leaving only bits and pieces of memories and thoughts that would never make sense again.

Sometimes fighting against despair and madness was easy. Sometimes it was not. Today was a good day because suddenly Lucius had a very special feeling, a feeling that he hadn't had felt for a long time. He was shivering. His heart start started to beat faster. Every inch of his body was alert. He sat up as quietly as he could. His back leaned against the smooth, cold stonewall and from this position he tried to scan his surroundings. All the distant screams made it difficult to hear anything else, but in a brief moment of silence, he made out a noise that sounded like someone exhaling.

His eyes darted in the direction of the noise and after a few minutes of starring, he was sure to see something within in the darkness. A shadow concealed by a shadow.

A grim smile appeared on Lucius' lips. Event after all this time he could still rely on his instincts. He was not alone in the cell.

A dark voice confirmed his observation. „I was worried that you would never wake up again."

Despite the thick accent, Lucius immediately knew that a woman was talking to him.

„Who are you", he replied warily, knowing that he had to be careful as long as he didn't know who his new cellmate was.

In Azkaban names were important. Mostly the mere name of a prisoner told you everything: the character of its owner, his history, his alliances, the reason for his imprisonment. There lay so much power in just a name, and power was something Lucius had always craved.

„Lucrezia Angiorelli."

At first Lucius was startled that his cellmate was so willing to give up her identity. However, after searching his memories, he knew why she was so careless. He had no idea who she was. He never had heard a name that sounded similar to hers.

And he knew almost every name of all the families in Great Britain- well, at least the names that were worth knowing. It had been part of his education to associate every respective name with the family's reputation, fortune and – most importantly- the pureness of its blood. This way, upon being officially introduced into society after graduating from Hogwarts, he always knew whom to honour with his attention, whom to use in order to accomplish his ambitions and whom to simply avoid.

He had never heard about a family named Angiorelli, but the sound of the name and the woman´s accent caused him to assume that she originally came from the south of Europe.

„Italy", the woman spoke into the darkness as if she had read Lucius´ mind. „And your name is?"

Her question was followed by a few minutes of silence, in which Lucius contemplated whether it was wise to give away his name and, in doing so, everything there was to know about him.

„Lucius Malfoy."

It hadn't been wise, he was aware of that as soon as he had spoken the two little words. But in the end, his longing to have a decent, sane conservation with another human being had gotten the better of him.

„Lucius Malfoy." Lucrezia repeated his name slowly, savouring its sound, her lips carefully forming every letter.

Lucius had the uncomfortable feeling as if she was examining his name. As if she would analyse every syllable and search her memory for bits and pieces she could associate with him. As if she would drink his name up, make it a part of herself and assign it a place in the web of her memories.

"An old name", she finally said. "An important name, even in Italy. A name full of blood and full of pain."

„Well, I'm quite sure that in this regard your name is in no way inferior to mine, Miss Angiorelli. Otherwise you wouldn't be in Azkaban." His voice was colder than the walls of their prison, but Lucrezia's only answer was a quiet laugh. It was a hard, emotionless laugh, similar to Bellatrix's. But contrary to his sister in law's laugh this one bore no sign of insanity. On the contrary, it was one of the sanest and most calculated laughs Lucius had ever heard. It had an effect on him that so far only the Dark Lord could achieve. It made him cringe.

"My name is not merely spoiled by blood and pain, Lucius. I _am_ blood, I _am_ pain – especially pain", she added after a brief pause. "Pain made me the person I am, and pain is the reason why I am here. Pain I suffered myself but also pain I caused others."

For once in his life, Lucius didn't know how to reply. He tried to put her mysterious words into context, to make sense of them, but soon her dark voice demanded his attention again.

„Tell me, Lucius, have you ever been to Italy?"

He was hit by memories. Memories and emotions he had felt so many years ago.

Grim satisfaction. Pride. Happiness that he had proved himself worthy to his master. The triumph to be welcomed within the Inner Circle despite of his youth. The relief to have passed the test.

„Once." He wouldn't give the woman more than this short answer. Now it was his turn to ask questions.

„Why did you hurt people? And how?" He knew about pain, and it seemed to be the only appropriate topic of conversation considering their cruel surroundings.

„Revenge and Cantarella." Just like him, Lucrezia had decided to keep her answers short.

He didn't know why, but Lucius was disappointed by her sudden discretion. He had liked her dark voice. It was so…soft and calming; especially in contrast to all the high screams and squeals he had to hear all day… every day. Sometimes his own screams where among them.

„Cantarella? A muggle poison?" Lucius snorted scornfully. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard stone floor, and glanced suspiciously in the direction of the many shadows, one of which had to be Lucrezia. Throwing him in a cell with a mud blood…he wouldn't have expected such irony from the Aurors.

„Muggle poison?" The scorn in Lucrezia`s voice calmed Lucius a bit. „Muggles may use this poison but it was a wizard, who invented it and a witch, who perfected its formula."

„What exactly is Cantarella?" Her words had made him curious. Lucius had always been eager to learn. Knowledge was just as important an element of power as wealth was.

„Cantarella", she whispered softly. "Cantarella is pain and death. It revenges the deaths of those I couldn't revenge myself and kills the murderers of my family. Cantarella is the cure for a burning soul and poison for those that violated this soul."

The temperature in the cell seemed to have dropped by a few degrees. Lucius shivered. Her voice sounded so soft, so innocent,…just like Bellatrix`s when she had one of her not so clear moments, pondering the meaning of life and death, making plans in her head that made sense to nobody but herself. After a while, Lucrezia`s voice pierced the uncomfortable silence again, this time quiet and measured.

"The basic formula of Cantarella had been perfected by my ancestors Lucrezia. Only few know about this, but the Borgias are one of the oldest wizarding families in Italy. Unfortunately, Lucrezia`s daughters all died at an early age and her only surviving girl turned out to be a Squib, who, after having sought advise from her family, found God and became a nun. Having no female offspring of her own, Lucrezia passed the secret of the poison on to her brother Cesare`s daughters. One of these girls is my direct ancestor and since that day the Borgia women pass the knowledge of Cantarella on to their daughters." Lucrezia pasued briefly, thinking carefully about her next words. "Did you know, Lucius, that the dose is the most important secret of the poison? Cantarella has so many faces. It can kill quickly, but still very painfully, or it can make you suffer for days and weeks, making you beg for salvation and giving you sufficient time to think about your mistakes and about how easy it would have been to prevent your pain if only, oh if only, you had refrained from hurting this one special person. You do not hurt a Borgia, Lucius. Countless witches, wizards, and muggles had to learn this over the course of centuries."

Lucius had listened carefully, memorizing every detail and trying to make sense of everything. „So, that`s why you are here. You killed people. You killed them with Cantarella. You killed because you wanted revenge. Someone had murdered your family and you made them pay for it. For years you killed and hid behind your poison instead of having the courage to do it yourself looking your victims in the face. But in the end you got caught", Lucius whispered cruelly.

„I hide behind my poison, others behind their masks!" Her hissing voice was anything but pleasant now and he could feel cold fury rising inside him. The hidden insult hadn't been lost on him and Lucius Malfoy did not like to be called a coward. Just as he wanted to give a cold response, her voice stopped him, now being soft and dark again.

„Five. I killed five...so far." She whispered the last words and her voice was so quiet that Lucius wasn't sure whether he had just imagined them.

Silence returned in the tiny cell. Finally, Lucius glanced over to the corner from which he had heard Lucrezia`s soft voice. Again he starred into the darkness but again all he saw were shadows concealed by shadows. His eyes fixed the shadow, trying to make out a movement or maybe even a scrap of a thought – he was able to perform a bit legilimency even without a wand. But all his eyes and his mind saw was blackness.

Just when he imagined to see one, no two, grey glows in the darkness, he was overwhelmed by a sudden weariness that swept through his whole body, sending him into a deep sleep before he even had the chance to wonder how this merciless fatigue had been caused. Or by whom.


	3. Chapter 3

**-3-**

When Lucius woke, he immediately noticed that the constant exhaustion tormenting him in the last months had disappeared. Instead, he felt recharged and wide-awake, enjoying a strange warmth that ran through his body, protecting him from the cell's merciless cold. The only things still making him feel uncomfortable were hunger and thirst. He was so hungry, ravenous actually, that he didn't spend much time wondering, why his fatigue had suddenly disappeared, and just concluded that his short conversation with Lucrezia Angiorelli – the first more or less sane person he had spoken to in years – must have been the reason for it.

Although her presence had unnerved him and put him in a mode of constant alert, he had enjoyed their short encounter. Again, he briefly wondered if there was a connection between the mysterious woman and his visit to Italy – his only visit, many years ago, but with consequences for so many people including him. Again, he pushed the thought aside.

Azkaban made you grateful for seemingly unimportant and normal things like a simple conversation with another human being. Even Lucius had to learn this lesson of humanity.

With ease, the blonde wizard sat up and listened carefully. Darkness surrounded him. No noise. No screams. Nothing. Just his own breathing and the beating of his heart. He was alone. Lucius' lips curled into a small smile, and he himself didn't know whether it was a smile of satisfaction or disappointment.

Lucrezia was gone. She probably had her trial just this very minute. He knew, because these few hours, the hours that decided about a person's life or death, were the only time when the screaming stopped. The law demanded all Aurors to be present at trial, so there was nobody left to continue the otherwise constant torture. Every prisoner waited longingly for these hours. Every prisoner except the (sometimes not so) poor soul about whose fate would be decided. Today, this seemed to be Lucrezia.

Lucius knew she was gone for good.

His smile changed into a grin. His own trial would take place in the distant future, if at all. Nobody would dare to sentence him to death as long as the Aurors thought to have the slightest chance to torture any useful information out of him. And Lucius would take care of them not losing this faint hope, giving them some unimportant information here and there, making them think they were close to breaking him. He was sick of the torture, he was sick of the isolation, and he was sick of his own screams, but he had no wish to die in this godforsaken prison. Especially not now, now that he finally felt something apart from pain and exhaustion.

He got up in one smooth motion and went closer to the cell door. In front of it, he kneeled down and searched the cold floor with his hands. He soon found what he was looking for. He walked back to the old mattress that served as his bed, a small plate and cup in his hand. While eating, he thought about his situation. He had been imprisoned in Azkaban for two years, without access to any information regarding the current status of the war. However, he knew for sure that it was far from being over. Which was unfortunate. Swearing that he only served the Dark Lord out of fear for his family – in case Voldemort would be defeated again – and at the same time not giving the Aurors useful information in order to not make Voldemort think that he betrayed him – in case the dark side would win – was getting more and more difficult.

Lucius swallowed. Sooner or later he had to get out, and he would. He was Lucius Malfoy after all. He was intelligent, he was powerful, he was rich and he knew the dirty little secrets of nearly all important ministry members. Two years were enough.

Having made a decision, the wizard emptied the cup. It felt cool on his fingertips, but the warmth within him prevented the coldness from making him shiver. He even felt warmer than a few minutes ago. By now, the warmth felt like heat, not pleasant, but threatening.

The cup slipped through his fingers. Suddenly, warmth and heat were gone, replaced by excruciating, burning pain inside his stomach. Lucius gasped. His nails dug helplessly into the thin mattress, while the pain spread through his body, making him fell as if he was burning from within. Panicking, he pressed his hands on his stomach, desperately trying to stop the pain, all the time knowing full well that it was in vain.

Today, his screams were the only ones filling Azkaban's empty corridors.

00oo00

Lucrezia felt every suspicious eye resting upon her when she entered the big courtroom, her head held high and her face expressionless. She made sure that her steady gaze never left the small, grey-haired wizard that sat on a long, high bench at the far end of the room.

She quietly sat down on a simple chair in the middle of the courtroom. Some ministry officials to her right, reporters to her left, the judges on the bench in front of her, and the Aurors standing in a semi-circle around her, their wands raised and ready to strike. Finally, the small wizard stood up and looked down on her.

"Lucrezia Angiorelli, as you know, you are on trial for cruelly and deviously murdering five members of our society. All victims were killed by the same means: You sought them out, gained their trust and, when the opportunity arose, mixed their food or drinks with a highly poisonous, illegal substance, which is commonly known as Cantarella. As a result, your victims suffered a long and painful death." The wizard paused briefly and mustered the woman below him out of cold, calculating brown eyes. His wrinkled face was expressionless. "Without doubt, the evidence our Aurors found is more than incriminating", he continued monotonously. "However, as you have decided against employing a lawyer of your choice you will now have the opportunity to respond to these accusations and explain your questionable actions."

His words were met by silence.

For a brief moment, Lucrezia's grey eyes met the wizard's cold stare, prompting him to question his firm belief in the woman's guilt. A second later, however, rational thinking overruled emotions and he resumed to his duty to sentence this exceptionally beautiful woman, who couldn't be much older than thirty years. Beautiful, yes. Young, yes. But a murderess nonetheless.

"Well", he probed impatiently.

Lucrezia closed her eyes before brushing a black hair strand out of her face with an elegant gesture.

"They were Death Eaters."

All men in the room felt drawn to her unusual soft and dark voice. Only the women shivered, as if they could feel the cold fury disguised by gentleness.

"Well, Miss Angiorelli, this fact is very well known to us." The wizard shot a quick glance to his secretary, who promptly began to eagerly scribble something on a piece of parchment. "If you really thought that the wrong-doings of your victims may excuse your crime and even affect the degree of your punishment, I have to disappoint you. Murder is murder, and since the dementor's treason it will be punished by death. No exceptions, Death Eaters or not."

For the first time since her imprisonment, Lucrezia was close to losing her composure and the Aurors standing closest to her caught a glimpse of incredulous desperation in her eyes.

"But...they killed my family. My friends. My whole_ village_! They just murdered all those innocent, helpless people."

"Misses Angiorelli", the wizard impatiently hissed, "I repeat myself: This does not excuse vigilante justice!"

Suddenly, a shadow of sadness crept over Lucrezia's face.

"It does not?" She seemed to ask herself this quietly whispered question and while the judges threw each other confused glances and the reporters excitedly chewed on their quills, her eyes grew even darker as her mind was taken over by memories.


End file.
